Wreck This Journal, Sherlock Style!
by Ms. Moonstar
Summary: What if John gave Sherlock a "Wreck This Journal" book for the lull in between cases? A set of flash fiction pieces based on each entry.
1. Challenge Accepted

_**A/N: So I got this "Wreck This Journal", and am having a lot of fun with it. I started to wonder what Sherlock would do with one. These will all be flash fiction entries based on the entry of the journal. ** _

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock Holmes. Wreck This Journal is the creation of Keri Smith. **_

* * *

"John, I'm bored." Sherlock huffed from his spot on the couch with his back to his friend. It had been three days since their last case, and with nothing new to occupy Sherlock, John was on the receiving end of his annoyance and childishness.

"Check the website, Sherlock." John said patiently, while writing up a case on his blog.

"Did it already," Sherlock muttered, "boring. Three extra-martial affairs, two embezzlers, and a missing cat."

"And a partridge in a pear tree." John laughed, but it soon turned into an awkward cough when Sherlock shot him a look of annoyance. "You could go get the shopping."

"Not really the shop type." Sherlock grumbled.

"Of course you're not." John groused, closing the lid of his laptop and standing. "I'll go and get it, shall I?"

Sherlock just, "hmm"ed under his breath and John sighed, grabbing his coat from the chair, and descending the steps to 221A.

When he knocked, his landlady Mrs. Hudson answered the door.

"Oh, John! Come in!" She greeted him warmly, beckoning him in.

"No, that's okay, Mrs. Hudson. I'm just going to run to down to the shops. Do you need anything?"

She shook her head, "Not that I know of dear."

"Ah, okay. Well, Sherlock's in a bit of a mood right now because he's not on a case today, so don't mind him if he's being cheeky."

"Alright dear." She replied in her normal understanding tone. "Oh wait!" Mrs. Hudson left the door for a moment and returned with a book.

"My niece left this here when she visited," Mrs. Hudson explained, handing it too him. "It's called _Wreck This Journal. _I was thinking it might be good for Sherlock in between cases because, well-you know how he is."

* * *

John returned home with the groceries nearly an hour later. He set the bagged food on the kitchen table, and took another into the living room, where Sherlock was still curled on the sofa.

"Here. Bought you something."

There was silence, and John wondered for a moment if Sherlock had actually fallen asleep, and then Sherlock turned over.

"What's that?" Sherlock grumbled, taking the book from his friend's hands. "Wreck this Journal."

"Yeah. Well it's something to get out you're frustration, more or less."

"It's for a child, John." Sherlock sneered.

"Well if the shoe fits..." John laughed, despite the glare that came from the detective.

"Look, you don't have to use it, I'll just give it to, I dunno-give it to Molly or something. (Sherlock snorted at this), "but I've got a date tonight, so you'll be on you're own. Try not to blow up the flat, okay?"

The reply was another monosyllable reply. Sighing, John went upstairs to change.

* * *

When John arrived home from his date around 11 o' clock, he plunked his keys on the table and went into the living room, and was not surprised to find that he flatmate was not there. Sherlock had a habit of being extremely lazy in between cases. He spied the journal with a post it note on the top cover. In Sherlock's messy penmanship was a brief. _"Challenge accepted John."_

John couldn't help but chuckle to himself and open the book to the information page where Sherlock's name was written in what he assumed was invisible ink (as he could read it), in big and small print and backwards.

This was going to be interesting.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

**So what did you think? Should I continue? **


	2. Crack the Spine and Numbering

_A/N: I'M back for another installment. I apologize for having to wait, I just didn't know how to write the next chapter. I'll try to write one every day. Thanks to cardinalfan13, TheGyrhan, and superster _for the reviews. I'm not much of an "artist" (can't draw) but love using my journal, and love it! I'm glad you like the story.

* * *

The next morning, it was no surprise to John to find Sherlock already up, watching something out of the window of their flat.

"Potential client?" John asked, yawning.

"Nope." Sherlock answered simply. "Come and have a look."

John joined him by the window, and looked out to the street. There right in the middle of the thoroughfare was the journal he'd bought his friend facing down on the street. He sighed in exasperation. "When did you put that out there without getting run over. More importantly, why?"

Sherlock shrugged, "Following the directions, John. Could you run down and get it for me."

"What? You're not serious? Risk my limbs so I can get your journal that you placed out there?"

"Please." Sherlock replied, stalking off to the kitchen, "busy with an experiment."

John threw his his hands up. "Fine! Do me a favor and pick a better spot to put your journal!" He snapped and descended the steps to the street. After dodging three cars, John finally managed to pick up the book. He just had time to look up to see a car coming.

"Damn!" He yelped as he did a quick run for the pavement, just missing the oncoming car. "You've better have a good excuse for this, Sherlock!" he hissed.

John dodged another car and scuttled back into 221B. He paused and opened the journal to find that almost all the pages were blank until he reached the third or fourth one.

**_Crack the spine._**

John blinked for a moment, _ I wonder if giving this to Sherlock was a bad mistake. _Though he had to admit, it was creative interpretation for the detective. The next page made him chuckle.

_**Number each page. **_

In Sherlock normal scrawl was written:

"_This task is very monotonous and boring. What's the point when I won't be showing this to anyone? _

John was sure that when Sherlock wasn't looking, he'd definitely would take pictures with his phone.


	3. Shots and Shoes

**_A/N: Sorry that it took so long to get this out, I wasn't inspired, ironically enough. More soon though, I promise._ **

* * *

The sound of gunshots caused John to suddenly wake and sit bolt upright. He put on his dressing gown and charged out of bed, as the shots continued downstairs.

Sherlock was sitting in his usual seat with a gun casually brandished at the opposite wall. When John looked over, he saw Sherlock's journal pinned to the wall next to the smiley face, with bullets riddling the page.

"What the hell are you doing?!" John finally erupted with anger, "It's half past seven in the bloody morning!"

"Following instructions," Sherlock murmured, "poking holes."

"_Poking holes_ is not the same as shooting it with a gun!" John snapped, as he went to pull the journal off from its spot. By the time John looked up, Sherlock had disappeared into the kitchen. The sound of clinking glass meant that Sherlock was in the middle of an experiment, and thus gave John a golden opportunity to look through it. He thumbed through the pages to find every single one riddled with bullet holes.

Before the bullet hole page was one that read: _**Stand here, jump up and down, wipe your feet.**_

Two perfect footmarks filled the paper with dark brown shoe stains. Underneath, it read _Care to make a deduction, John_?

John chuckled under his breath, "Smart arse."

The door opened and Mrs. Hudson, complete with her nighty and dressing gown barged in.

"Sherlock Holmes, have you been shooting my wall again?!"

**_TBC..._**


	4. Climb Up High

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and followed this fic. I am very pleased you all like it!_

Disclaimer still stands, I do not own Wreck This Journal (Keri Smith does) and Sherlock Holmes (ACD and BBC does.)

* * *

John was at the surgery when he got a phone call around 2 o'clock in the afternoon. He sighed and wondered if it was Sherlock trying to bother him during work again.

"Hello? Sherlock, if you're trying to get me home early to do the shopping-"

"Hello, John, it's Greg." Lestrade's voice came over the line.

John put his hand on his head, "What's he's done this time?" John asked like a parent getting a phone call from a headmaster.

"You know that journal you gave him? Well he threw it off the Shard."

"Oh God," John muttered, "I'll be there in half an hour."

* * *

Greg Lestrade met John at the holding cells at New Scotland Yard. The DI handed the journal back to him while trying to keep a straight face.

"You know who this happened to hit when Sherlock threw it off the top floor?" When John shook his head, Lestrade continued, "Peter McCart."

John gaped for a moment, "The Secretary of State for Scotland? Christ, Sherlock!"

"Luckily, he didn't press any charges because he thought it was funny. Even did up a page," He flipped through until he reached the designated spot in the book that said _This page is a sign, what do you want it to say? _And underneath was the message "Always look up before you walk. You never know what might hit you."

John broke into a chuckle while Greg tried to remain serious. "This is no laughing matter John." A moment later, a huge grin spread over his face. "Actually it is, really. Who'd thought a little journal could get him into trouble like this."

"Damn, I really am regretting giving him this." John sighed.

Now it was Greg's turn to be gobsmacked. "_You _gave him this? Given his personality?!"

John just shrugged. "I just thought it would be good for in between cases. I didn't expect him to throw it off the bloody Shard!"

"Well, give it back to him, and tell him not to do anything that could get him arrested, okay John?" Lestrade said firmly, then laughed again.

**TBC...**


	5. A Touch of Drama

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, sorry this took so long to get uploaded._

* * *

When John arrived home and opened the door to 221B, there was an eerie silence in the flat. John wondered if Sherlock had finally gotten a case, but then dismissed it because he would always be informed if there was one. His eyes drifted to the floor and his heart stuttered. Blood. There was blood on the floor. John followed the trail with his eyes and saw Sherlock slumped in his chair, with blood dripping on his fingers.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, and rushed over to his friend and instantly was looking him over to see if there was any other injuries. After a moment, John sighed in exasperation when he saw the detective's eyes pop open and a slight smile tugged at his lips.

"Why hello, John."

"Sherlock, you bloody bastard!" John threw his hands up and stepped back, "Tell me that's not real blood you dripped all over the floor!"

"Nope." The detective answered simply with a shrug of his shoulders.

"No as in is it's not blood? Or no as in that's not _your_ blood?"

"Neither." Sherlock stood up and went to the kitchen where he wiped his fingers off with a towel. "It was paint. Mrs. Hudson bought it for my 'project'." He rolled his eyes. "I was determining how far a knife could be thrown at a target without missing it. He picked up the journal where a slit now resided in a target, and the same red paint was splattered on the page.

"You know, if this were anyone else, it would look suspicious." John groused. "Good thing it's you we're talking about here."

"I couldn't resist a touch of drama, John." Sherlock laughed as his flatmate continued to scowl at him.


	6. Draw a Non-Stop Line

_a/n: I am so sorry, I got a little lazy and then went on vacation for a few days. *bows down for forgiveness* I would like to know if you want me to go in order of the pages in the journal, or mix them up. Please let me know. Thanks and enjoy!_

* * *

John had gotten up and ready for work with the odd sense that the house was too quiet. When he entered the kitchen to make himself coffee, he popped his head into the living room and didn't find Sherlock laying around anywhere. John shrugged, brushing it off and thinking that his flatmate had gone to pester Lestrade for cold cases again. After he had showered and dressed, John returned to the kitchen to eat breakfast, suddenly feeling slightly lonely in the silent apartment. John shook it off and finished getting ready for work, but not before texting Sherlock.

_Where are you?-JW_

_Busy. -SH_

_Not getting into trouble, are you? -JW_

_Conducting an experiment. I don't know when I'll be home. -SH_

_You didn't answer my question. -JW_

_I. AM. NOT. GETTING. INTO. TROUBLE! -SH_

_Alright. I'll see you...when I see you. -JW_

_-Tell Mrs. Hudson to stay out of our flat. I don't want her to move my eyeball experiment into the trash again. -SH_

_Bye, Sherlock -JW_

* * *

When John went up the seventeen steps to 221B, it was not a surprise to him that Sherlock was not home yet. A quiet night at Baker Street is just what he wanted after his long, stressful day at the surgery. Maybe he would order in some Chinese food, work on his blog, and maybe even check some emails he'd been meaning to look at for a while.

John had done all of them in a matter of hours before he'd fallen asleep in the chair. A chirp from his phone woke him from his doze with amazing speed. He looked at the time, 2:11 am.

_Experiment concluded, heading home now. -SH_

The fatigue had almost completely worn off now, John couldn't help but wonder what Sherlock was experimenting on. _Probably on corpses again_ he thought, but decided to stay up and see what Sherlock's results all, if it went well, the detective would be in a good mood for a few days.

Nearly fourty-five minutes later, Sherlock pounded up the steps to his awaiting flatmate. When John looked up, he was a little startled by his flatmate's appearance. Sherlock looked tired and pale, more so than normal. "So what have you been doing all day? Your experiment?"

"Determining how long it would take to ride every Tube train in London."

"You know, someone's already done that, it's in the Guinness World Record book." John snipped, not looking up from his computer.

"Yes, but I wanted to calculate which lines were slower than others. I have it documented here." And so saying, Sherlock handed the journal to John and pointed out the page where it read: **Draw a non-stop line **and had diagrammed all the Tube lines.

"You could have just gone on the internet to find out. Ya need a better way to occupy your time, Sherlock." John rolled his eyes at the fact that he'd stayed up for something that stupid, shut off his computer and went to bed.

_**TBC...**_


	7. Rain and Stamps

_A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you everyone who has faved and followed this story, have left reviews, and have fave and followed me as an author. I went to bed with 7 follows, and now am up to 16! I am very very appreciative, and to prove it, have written a slightly longer chapter this time. Enjoy!_

* * *

The _tap tap tap_ of falling rain was John's wake up call. Groaning, he got out of bed and padded to the kitchen for some coffee. His brow furrowed when he again did not hear Sherlock about in the flat. Perhaps he was still asleep? Then again, his flatmate had the habit of going out in all weather. His coffee brewed, John found himself drawn to the window from some odd reason. The raindrops were like tears as they slid down the windows. It was then that he looked down and saw his flatmate sitting on the pavement with an umbrella in one hand, and his journal in the other. Some passersby, thinking that he was a beggar, placed coins in the crease of the journal. John rolled his eyes and threw the window open.

"Sherlock, it's 18 degrees outside! Come inside before you catch pneumonia, you idiot!" John shouted down at him, before slamming the window shut again.

Sighing resolutely, Sherlock closed the book (complete with coins inside), and went inside 221.

When his friend came up the stairs, John was greeted with a very loud sneeze.

"Bless." John said, handing him a handkerchief, which the detective gratefully blew into, before trying to hand it back to him.

"Um...just keep that. Looks like you'll be needing it." John remarked, trying not to laugh, "It looks like you're getting a cold from your little excursion outside. What were you doing, anyway?"

Without answering, Sherlock handed John the book, which he opened to the pro-offered page.

**_Take this journal into the shower with you_**

"Wouldn't it have been easier to take it in, I dunno, the actual shower with you?"

Sherlock shrugged, "It can be interpreted any way, so I took it out when it was raining."

"And caught a cold for the effort." John said, with a slight shake of his head. "Well, at least you made..." he silently counted the coins, "3 pounds 10."

"I don't have-" Sherlock began, but was cut off by a sneeze again.

"Yeah, you do, get out of your wet clothes and take a warm bath. I'll make some tea. "

* * *

About half an hour later, Sherlock was laying on the couch with a afghan covering him, and a pile of letters laying next to him. John was at his computer, and looked up every few minutes. The sound of tearing paper caught his attention.

"What are you doing?" John asked, still typing on his computer.

"Tearing up letters. Not worth my time and it's very therapeutic. "

"Whatever makes you happy, mate." John sighed.

"Could you fetch the glue from the kitchen? It's in the second drawer next to the coffeepot."

"Or you could get it yourself," John snapped.

"You told me not to get up." Sherlock argued.

John groaned and went into the kitchen to fetch what turned out to be super glue, and returned to Sherlock's side. He looked down to find a rather large pile of ripped paper and envelopes, and an equally large pile of used stamps.

"Care to clue me in?" He asked, pointing to the stamps.

"You know my methods, John." Sherlock acknowledged, "It's for a project."

**_TBC..._**


	8. Sample Various substances

A/N: _I'm sorry that it's been eight days since I've updated, but to be honest, I struggled with this chapter because I'm not an chemist. No seriously, I had no idea what kind of experiments Sherlock would carry out, so I fell back on something familiar. Internet cookie if you can guess!__ I think from now on though, I'll give myself a week in between chapters so I have time to research and think them through.__ As always, thanks very much to my reviewers, watchers, and people who fave this story. I greatly appreciate it!  
_

* * *

There was a shout from the kitchen as John ascended the 17 steps to 221b after a long day at work. It was raining outside again, and much to his relief the fireplace was lit. Shrugging off his coat, John took a few steps and found his flatmate in the kitchen.

"Anything in?" John asked, strutting into it and to the fridge, silently praying that the food would not be near body parts again.

"Mmmm.." Was the response from Sherlock, who was busy with a chemistry experiment.

John dug out some left over Chinese take-away, and puttered around the small confines of the kitchen to prepare it.

While the left overs were heating up, John looked over his shoulder at Sherlock's experiment. Next to him was the journal, opened to the page that read:

**Sample various substances found in your home. Document what they are. Create color schemes. **

_Liquid Chlorine_ had already been label under a sickly yellowish color_, _and_ iodine (_which was a dark orange_). _There was also a odd foot shaped plant next to it.

"What's this, then?" John asked picking it up.

"Poison. Luckily not one that involves touch." Sherlock commented when John threw it down.

"Anything interesting?"

"Old cold case. Female chemist tried to kill her husband by poisoning him and then set a bomb to look like a leak."

"Try not to blow up the flat then, I'd like a nice quiet night in." John snipped as he retrieved his dinner from the microwave and went to his desk to sit down.

Some time later, John set his plate aside at his desk and was about to type up his blog, when Sherlock interrupted him.

"John, could you go get some milk? I'd like some for tea tomorrow."

"You realize that I just got home a little over an hour ago?" John snapped, returning his attention to his computer.

"Please." Sherlock responded without moving away from his microscope.

John huffed and closed the laptop. "Fine."

"Take my card, get anything else we need."

John paused, "Are-are you trying to get rid of me?"

Sherlock pulled away long from the experiment to roll his eyes at him.

"Because leaving you alone with that is obviously a clue."

"I can handle poison, John."

"Okay." John put his hands up defensively. He fished Sherlock's wallet from his coat in the living room and called, "I'll be back soon!"

"Mmmm" was the only audible response.

* * *

John was gone for nearly half an hour when he finally returned to the flat. Looking up, John could see that the window was open, the curtains fluttering with a gentle breeze. Not unusual on such a nice night. He lumbered up the stairs, shifting the bags in his hands for balance.

"Sherlock, I'm ba-" John began to place the groceries on the table when he stopped. Laying face down on the kitchen floor was Sherlock.

John's heart began to pound, "Sherlock!" He rushed over to his flatmate and turned him into a recovery position. Instantly, John went into doctor mode, checking Sherlock's pulse and breathing and finding them slow, but improving. How long had he been like this?

Much to John's relief, Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and he coughed weakly, "John." he rasped.

"Sherlock, what the hell happened? Let me guess, that poison?"

Sherlock could only nod slightly.

"Right, I'm getting you to the hospital." John affirmed, whipping out his phone.

Sherlock hand stopped him, "No, 'm fine, just need to sleep. Made me weak. Window's open."

John snipped, "Yeah, I noticed that."

"Poison was strong, needed to vent it while experimenting."

John nodded in understanding. If the detective hadn't had this foresight, he could have easily died. "So you were trying to get rid of me, then."

"Couldn't risk it, John. Found the answer though. _Radix pedis diaboli_." Sherlock rasped after a cough.

"Ta." As much as John admired Sherlock's genius, he couldn't help that his friend was a bit of a moron when it came to common sense. "Right. Off to bed then. Can you stand?" So saying, he assisted Sherlock off the kitchen floor.

"Couch. Bring my journal and my pen."

"Fine," John huffed, aiding his friend to the couch, then retrieved the journal and pen. Already, sleep was beginning to sweep Sherlock under its depths.

"Sherlock," John, "next time you do a dangerous experiment that threatens your health, let me stick around, okay?"

"Mmm." Sherlock muttered as he finally dropped off into sleep.

**_TBC..._**


End file.
